


don't let my ink fade

by bergamots



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, mentions of abuse, the parallels between riza and nina's life are so sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 04:01:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17399663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bergamots/pseuds/bergamots
Summary: He told me that alchemy makes monsters out of men, you know.It comes as no surprise to Roy Mustang that the wretched case of Shou and Nina Tucker affects some members of his team in more ways than one.





	don't let my ink fade

**Author's Note:**

> [ _don't let my ink fade - cale hawkins_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_we7y91t8Jw)

The tragic, entirely avoidable death of Nina Tucker hangs over East Headquarters like the storms they often get in the summer: a thick, oppressive silence reigns where normally there is barely-contained chaos. While the city thrived despite the oncoming storm spilling over the Cremil Ranges, headquarters itself had practically come to a complete standstill in a matter of a few hours.

Over one-third of the non-sworn workers alone had called in their sick leave that afternoon. In an unplanned, but urgent meeting with the other high command stationed at Eastern Headquarters, it was agreed that they’d run on essentially a skeleton shift for the next day. People were in shock, reasoned General Grumman, and needed time to process what had occurred. Denying requests en masse would only encourage resentment. However, _precautions_ would need to be taken, as the East was currently in the midst of an active recruitment drive. It would inevitably face some resistance in the wake of this… _unfortunate scenario_ , sneered Lieutenant-Colonel Matthews.

Roy is well aware of the furtive glances towards him in that room at the insinuation. He is not the idiot most of them assume he is. The writing is clearly on the wall here: _you fucked up **monumentally** , Colonel Mustang._

He’ll bear the public responsibility, make the necessary appeasing appearances. _Actual_ repercussions won’t occur, not ever. Not his fault that the brass ignored his comments on Tucker’s application, had ignored the intel he had inevitably amassed for a man who had applied for the State Alchemist program over _fourteen_ times. For such a sudden development in Tucker’s research from one year to the next, it only raised alarm bells for him. The leap Tucker had made in his research went beyond what even Roy knew himself capable of, and he had been given notes to guide him along.

But his comments fell on deaf ears, his preliminary application for rejection subsequently overruled. _It can talk you idiot – the chimera can actually talk!_

_Sure, and all it says is ‘I want to die’._

He is utterly engrossed in Tucker’s file when the phone goes off. He barely has to incline his head and she understands what he is asking – Hawkeye rises from the couch, papers fluttering down around her like skittish birds. The nasal tone of the phone is harsh through his empty office, echoing starkly against the walls. Roy turns his attention back to Tucker’s successful application.

“...we cannot comment on this matter. Thank you.” The Lieutenant's tone is devoid of any emphasis, but the manner in which she practically _slams_ the receiver back into its cradle makes him pause.

Her knuckles are still gripping the handle of the phone tightly, almost blanched white when he looks up. “Are they sniffing already?”

“Sewing-Life is being traded for Butcherer. It’s going to hit the morning newsstands. Headquarters cannot afford for so many to be absent tomorrow, personal inclinations aside.” Her tone is deceptively casual, but he’d be a fool not to pick up on the tension lingering within her words.

Roy sets down the file and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Our hands are tied either way Lieutenant.” It’s difficult not to let frustration seep into his voice. She doesn’t deserve his ire directed her way, not now.

Her clipped “Yes, sir,” tells him she won’t tolerate his bullshit beyond her pay check today.

* * *

In hindsight, he should have been quicker on the uptake, pieced together why this case in particular had rankled his aide so much. But then Scar had come along, and all thoughts of approaching Hawkeye had promptly gone out the window with the resulting chaos.

The debrief takes longer than he likes, made more complicated by the amount of paperwork he’s going to need to do to keep certain secrets well… secret. Over fifty of his men had seen the ruined remains of Alphonse’s armour – until now information that was closely-guarded, and _very_ much on a need-to-know basis – and the last thing he needs is the papers having not only a ‘House of Horrors’ angle for the next week, but another series demonising Ishvallans because of the actions of a lone wolf.

He finds her in his office later that night, her back to the door, leaning against his desk and looking out over the parade grounds. It’s still raining heavily, and he thinks that the thunderous sound of the storm outside masks his entrance. If she hears him, she certainly makes no indication otherwise.

The Elric brothers… well, perhaps it was logical that his mind immediately went to their well being. They had been the closest involved in the situation. The sudden appearance of Scar, the revelation that he was an Ishvallan man with a vengeance carved into his very skin – Roy knows these are valid reasons on their own, but it does not mean his failure to check in on his team is any less forgivable.

He knows First Lieutenant Hawkeye is a strong soldier, unfazed and stoic. Her apparent quietness in response to the tragic fate of Nina Tucker may have fooled others into assuming once more that she had compartmentalised, had tucked away this sorry event for unpacking at a more agreeable time. Roy knows her better. A small part of him aches to reassure her through touch, even as scant as a gloved hand on her shoulder, however briefly before propriety and decorum settle across them once more. Instead, he mirrors her position against the desk and carefully peels off his gloves, tucking them into his pocket.

The way her voices hitches makes his heart squeeze tightly in response. “I thought I would be lucky enough to not see any echoes of my father anymore. I suppose that was foolish of me.”

Roy doesn’t have the words – there are _no_ words, no sentences he can formulate that could even begin to acknowledge what she’s referring to. How can he possibly relate? He had practically been the apple of her father’s eye, before his enlistment. She would never go so far as to condemn her father, but Roy would do it happily in her stead. Years of emotional abuse and distance was just as horrific as the ink he left on her back.

“He told me alchemy made monsters out of men, you know. It always had this faint tone of self-deprecation to it, but…” she trails off, head hanging low. Roy realises she is holding his pocket watch, and she fascinates herself with the peaks and valleys of the military insignia.

“Is there even going to be an autopsy?”

The truth is bitter on his tongue. “Not for her. Major Armstrong's hypothesis that Scar is using at least the deconstruction part of a transmutation attempt will need to be verified, however.”

Riza nods shortly, throwing her head back swiftly to stare at the ceiling. He pointedly ignores the tears running freely down her cheeks.

“She would’ve gone along with it. Right until the very end. Anything to bring back the father she remembered.”

“You shouldn't do this to yourself.” _We had no way to know_ , dies on his lips, because he _did_ know. Suspected, at least. He’s well-aware that the Elric brothers hold themselves accountable for what has happened, but in truth the blame falls squarely back to him. He could have kicked up more of a fuss from the review panel’s decision. He could have required Tucker to provide quarterly reports.

This particular brand of madness, however – Roy is well-acquainted with it. So is Riza, crying openly next to him. They know they couldn’t have caught him – not before the damage had already been done.

The fact that it had happened _twice_ , right under their noses, is the salt in a wound that has been bleeding slowly for years.

Riza blinks rapidly, and wipes at her face roughly. “I’ll go enquire with forensics. We might be able to give her a burial at least.” She passes his watch back to him, and for those brief, few seconds where their fingers overlap one another, Roy is almost tempted to engulf her into an embrace and never let her go.

Instead, he nods, and pockets the watch. He doesn’t have the heart to inform her that the body has already been disposed of.

She’ll forgive him in time.

**Author's Note:**

> i have always envisioned one of roy’s responsibilities at east hq to be overseeing the alchemists in the eastern district - vetting their applications, ensuring their research was sound, could be replicated, and provided something new to the collective alchemy knowledge accrued by the military. it would certainly explain why he went to visit the elric brothers in resembool all those years ago on behalf of the military


End file.
